


guess who’s coming to dinner

by thunderylee



Category: Kanjani8 (Band), NewS (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-14
Updated: 2008-03-14
Packaged: 2019-02-05 13:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12795264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Situation: Food is the way to a man’s … whatever. Not food!smut. Just food and then…work with me here. Yay food.





	guess who’s coming to dinner

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

Yamapi wanders the streets of Osaka, not exactly lost but not with a destination in mind either. He’s not partial to the city, no matter how much Ryo-chan brags about it, but only because they talk funny and the curry kind of sucks.

He’s walking past an apartment building when the smell wafts past his senses, something he can’t pinpoint but is especially pleasant all the same, and it’s not like he has anything better to do than follow his nose up three flights of stairs and down a hall until he’s fairly sure he has the right door.

He was kind of hoping it’d be a nice old lady on the other side, but the unimpressed face of Kanjani8’s Ohkura greets him with a glare that makes Yamapi wish he would have stayed in Tokyo. “What do you want,” he asks rudely.

The smell is pungent now and distinguishable – meat, the good kind, perhaps frying with spices and vegetables. Yamapi smiles contently as the aroma fills him entirely, oblivious to Ohkura’s expectant throat clearing and arm folding.

“Smells good,” Yamapi mumbles, blinking his eyes open and offering his best puppy face in hopes of being let in.

Ohkura rolls his eyes and turns away from the door, leaving it open. “Only because Ryo-chan likes you,” he mutters as he returns to the kitchen.

Yamapi almost bounces as he enters Ohkura’s apartment and kicks off his shoes, twirling a little in the genkan at the wonderful smells that meet his nose. He pads into the kitchen and leans over Ohkura’s shoulder, making a soft noise of content now that the sizzling food is right in front of his face.

Ohkura’s eyes cross and he nudges Yamapi with his elbow. “Don’t try to seduce me while I’m cooking,” he says, sounding rather amused as he pokes at the meat with a spatula. “If you want to make yourself useful, the rice cooker is over there.”

“Not trying to seduce you,” Yamapi mumbles with a frown as he follows Ohkura’s finger and gets started on the rice. “This means I get to eat too, right?”

Ohkura sighs. “I was hoping to have leftovers for work tomorrow, but I suppose it wouldn’t be very Osakan of me to turn away a hungry guest…”

“Your mother will be proud,” Yamapi offers, triumphantly placing the lid on the rice cooker and wiping his hands like he’d actually done something helpful. “What are you making anyway?”

A tiny smirk adorns Ohkura’s lips. “It’s called, ‘throw everything in the refrigerator into a pot’,” he says proudly. “Also known as ‘I’m too lazy to go for takeout’.”

“Brilliant,” says Yamapi, and Ohkura laughs out loud.

“Set the table,” is all Ohkura says. “It’s almost ready.”

They eat in silence, not really having much to talk about other than the occasional chide about Ryo, but even then Yamapi feels bad about making fun of his friend and bows out after a couple rounds. Despite the lack of conversation, it’s not uncomfortable at all because Ohkura’s cooking is _delicious_ and Yamapi temporarily entertains the idea of becoming Ohkura’s pet and eating his cooking all the time, like MatsuJun did in that one drama.

“Do you like dogs?” he asks without thinking.

Ohkura lifts his eyes as he finishes slurping. “They’re okay.”

There goes that idea. Yamapi frowns in a way that seems to make Ohkura laugh, and at least he can bring his host some kind of amusement even if Yamapi himself doesn’t understand it. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” Ohkura says, shaking his head in disbelief. “You just randomly show up at my apartment and think absolutely nothing is weird about it.”

Yamapi shrugs. “It’s how I roll.”

“Clearly,” Ohkura replies, slurping up the last of his bowl and eyeing Yamapi’s empty one. “I don’t think I could get you to do the dishes…”

Twenty minutes later, all of Ohkura’s cookware and dishes are sparkling clean and Yamapi’s up to his arms in soap suds. Ohkura’s leaning against the dishwasher, his eyes on Yamapi as he flicks the ‘on’ switch and licks his lips.

“There’s nothing in there,” Yamapi points out, wondering when he became the smarter of the pair.

“I know,” Ohkura says, his voice having dropped to bass level as he hops up on the dishwasher and pulls Yamapi towards him by the collar. “I like the vibrations.”

“Oh,” Yamapi says intelligently, wondering where all of his brain cells went so suddenly. While he wonders, Ohkura’s hands are deftly unfastening the buttons of his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, placing Yamapi’s hands on his thighs and darting out his tongue to lick the perimeter of Yamapi’s lips.

“Get it yet?” Ohkura says softly, his hands lowering to rest on Yamapi’s belt buckle.

“I-I think so,” Yamapi stammers, tightening his grip on Ohkura’s thighs in a way that makes them spread even more. “Is this how one thanks another for dinner in Osaka?”

“Yes,” replies Ohkura seriously, clicking Yamapi’s belt undone and removing it from the loops in one flick, leaving Yamapi’s pants to rest dangerously low on his hips.

“Oh, I see,” Yamapi says, nodding. “Ryo-chan must think I’m very rude, then. I should go see him the moment I leave here.”

Ohkura couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the thought of Yamapi trying to ‘thank’ Ryo. “You should. But in the meantime, I’m already here.”

Yamapi doesn’t see the need to point out the obvious, but Ohkura’s tongue is in his mouth before he can think of a suitable response. He tastes delicious, just like the dinner they both ate, and the way Ohkura keeps flicking the tip along the roof of his mouth makes him push up into Ohkura’s lingering hands.

Ohkura grips Yamapi’s hips and pulls him all the way between his legs, wrapping said appendages around him and locking his feet together to keep him from moving. All Yamapi can do is groan into Ohkura’s mouth as his groin is met with something equally as hard, his hands automatically sliding up Ohkura’s shirt to grab at the muscle of his back.

“Take it off,” Ohkura whispers, a little impatiently. “Come on, Yamashita, you know what’s going to happen here.”

“On the dishwasher?” Yamapi says incredulously, but follows orders and tugs Ohkura’s shirt over his head.

Ohkura squirms and moans low in his throat. “I told you, I like the vibrations.”

Something seems to click in Yamapi’s head, and Ohkura mutters “finally” under his breath as Yamapi lays him down on the counter and leans over him, fingers nimbly unfastening his pants as his mouth goes straight to one of Ohkura’s nipples.

“Mmm,” Ohkura says with a low rumbling that Yamapi feels in his toes. “That’s it.”

Yamapi feels a hand in his hair and knows he must be doing it right, especially when Ohkura lifts his hips for Yamapi to pull down the rest of his clothes and lays completely nude on the kitchen counter, his arms resting on the raised breakfast bar behind him and his eyes full of lust.

Ohkura’s moan is a bit shrill as Yamapi flicks his tongue down Ohkura’s abdomen, his hands traveling up the insides of Ohkura’s thighs and back again until Ohkura lifts his knees and exposes himself completely.

Since Yamapi prides himself on this kind of thing, he drew it out, bathing Ohkura’s cock with his tongue before taking the tip past his lips, his fingers now trailing along the creases between Ohkura’s thigh and groin.

Ohkura’s body starts to shudder, his head almost banging against the breakfast bar as he throws it back and returns with angry eyes. “You Tokyo boys are such cockteases,” he growls.

Yamapi grins and takes him all the way in, making his suction airtight and moving up and down in a way that proves he’s done messing around.

Ohkura’s eyes roll back into his head as he pushes up into Yamapi’s mouth. “Uh, like that,” he mumbles. “ _Fuck_. It’s true what they say about you.”

Yamapi feels strangely proud as he carries on, his eyes darting around for something that could constitute for lube until they land on the open margarine container.

Ohkura follows his gaze. “Creative,” he remarks.

That’s consent enough for Yamapi, who decides that sanitation is clearly not an issue at this point and dips two of his fingers into the margarine before sliding them between Ohkura’s ass cheeks, purposefully avoiding the tiny hole while at the same time swallowing around Ohkura’s cock.

Ohkura’s making incoherent noises of encouragement, managing to push back against Yamapi’s promising touch and up into his mouth simultaneously, and Yamapi belatedly realizes that he’s humping the front of the dishwasher and maybe he’s done teasing. His fingers slip into Ohkura easily, which makes Yamapi briefly wonder how often Ohkura has dinner guests before Ohkura’s hand nearly pulls out his hair and they both howl, Yamapi in pain and Ohkura in orgasm, the fluid infiltrating Yamapi’s mouth before he’s ready for it and he almost chokes as he miraculously manages to swallow.

“Yamashita, fuck me,” Ohkura says, deadpan, his skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and his eyes barely open.

Yamapi wonders if he should put more of the margarine on himself, but Ohkura doesn’t give him much time to decide before he’s sitting straight up and fumbling with Yamapi’s pants, wrapping all four limbs around him as the pants hit the floor and the tip of Yamapi’s erection pokes at Ohkura’s rim.

“ _Now_ , Yamashita,” Ohkura hisses in his ear, leaning back enough for most of his weight to still be on the counter as Yamapi slowly pushes inside. Both of their breaths hitch in their throats and Yamapi has to take some time to gather himself, at least until Ohkura gets annoyed and starts the rhythm for him.

Yamapi follows obediently, partially on the counter as well with one foot on the floor and one knee on the edge of the dishwasher, the oddest sensation when his balls smack against the vibrating countertop instead of Ohkura’s skin. It actually desensitizes him and he can pound into Ohkura without feeling like he’s going to come too soon, his hands on Ohkura’s thighs while Ohkura’s hands are behind his head to keep from repeatedly smacking himself into the breakfast bar.

For someone who was so easy to prepare, Ohkura’s pretty tight around Yamapi and keeps getting tighter with each slam to his spot. He’s groaning continuously, his voice deep and strained, his lower half lifting to meet Yamapi’s every thrust on beat, and despite the desensitization Yamapi doesn’t think he can make it much longer.

“I’m gonna -” he starts to say, ending in a loud moan as he does exactly that, feeling his orgasm wash over him in unruly waves that leave him barely able to stand.

Ohkura sucks in a very large breath like he’d been denied air this whole time, pushes Yamapi off of him, and carefully lets himself down from the counter to retrieve his clothes. Not bothering to put them on, he simply tosses them in a basket as he walks rather rigidly through the apartment to where the bathroom obviously is.

He turns to Yamapi with another expectant look. “You coming?”

Yamapi doesn’t think he’ll make it to Ryo’s tonight, but that’s okay because if he stays here, maybe Ohkura will make him breakfast in the morning.


End file.
